Tag Archives: france

I think I got wrapped up in my life for awhile there, which is quite forgivable given what has come to pass. It would be impossible to catalogue everything that’s gone down since I last left you in Ireland, but here are some snapshots and stories from some more photo-worthy things.

First of all, l’appart. The palatial Chez Michelle. I moved into an apartment on a street that looks like this. I’m living in an adorable lyonnaise studio with a river view above a puppet museum, which is several levels of ridiculous. It has big French windows which I can throw open in the mornings when it’s sunny. This is cobblestoned route I take home from the metro.

I’ve been travelling too. I, uh, went to Sweden. Casually. I flew up to Stockholm to spend time with my beautiful Finnish 1930s extraordinaires Riikka and Jirina. And we have many, many photos to show for the weekend. I recommend you pop across to Riikka’s blog to perve on the out of control vintage dinner party we had the pleasure of attending with Miriam and her lovely Swedish friends.

I had another London fix. Going to London is good for the soul. I go there and I brunch, I drink good coffee, and just generally potter around feeling content. I’m gradually becoming more and more convinced that the rest of my life needs to happen in London.

In this travel frenzy, I made it to Paris too for my favourite francophone Sabra’s burlesque debut. She was fabulous fabulous fabulous, and you should go lurk her blog here. Here she is, photo courtesy of Meler Jean-François.

And here are some rad French burlesque girls.

And soon after, with Sabra in tow, I went to Marché de la Mode Vintage, Lyon’s veritable vintage event of the season. We met 1940s girl Jessica of Leçons de Retro.

Also in Lyon, I’ve been winning latté art competitions.

And attending parties at chateaus.

And taking day trips to fairytale lakes.

To add more ridiculousness to the ridiculousness, the week before last I went to Finland (again). Riikka and I made trouble and threw picnics all over Helsinki, and I took a boat to Estonia (say what?). The photos on photos we instagrammed and added to our personal collections deserve a post of their own, but here’s a preview.

And I swear I’m not making all this up, but right now I’m in Nice on the start of a side-trip into the South and down through Italy. Sigh.

But really, there is so much more absurdity to come, so I shouldn’t be getting all overwhelmed. Just when I put it all together in a post like this, it seems out of control. I’m really having a fabulous time in France, and would rather not come home. My days here are numbered now, so I’m throwing as many dinner parties while I still can. It’s all red wine and cake until the end of July.

Lovely to drop by again. I might be back soon, I might not. But in the meantime just imagine the decadence.

Coucou, it’s been a little while since I dropped by. I have so many photos to share from the past few weeks’ travels and such, but for today just one, from Lyon no less.

In Lyon there’s a cathedral on the hill called “La Basilique de Fourvière”. It’s super-majestic and old, and if you do actually manage to walk up all the steps to the top (or catch the funiculière), there’s the most magical view of Presqu’ile, and the whole city. Heather and I caught the funiculière up at sunset to look at all the red roofs, and it was a little bit breathtaking. Regarde:

I’m wearing the Gretel coat from Collectif: almost as magical as the view. It was a London acquisition which has made the icy days in Lyon sort of more bearable. You’ll be seeing a lot of this coat, j’espère.

I had the exquisite pleasure of meeting Sabra The Blueberry Pie over the weekend: the first vintage girl I’ve managed to seek out in Lyon. The vintage blogging world is truly a wonderful thing. Sabra caught the train up from Grenoble to spend the day with me, and I totally fell in love. She’s like a French version of me.

We “brunched” in la Croix Rousse. I use inverted commas for its questionable brunch status (see figure 1.1):

Scrambled eggs, pancakes, fruit, salad, yoghurt, cheese. French people are confused about brunch. But it was brunch nonetheless! Here I am having tea:

And here is Sabra, la magnifique:

The café where we brunched was actually adorable. BEYOND adorable. And sooo retrooooo you guys.

Obligatory post-feminist discourse outfit shots in the retro café:

We went vintage shopping at Carrie Bradshop: a marvellous vintage boutique on Rue Romarin in the 1er. Most importantly, the name. It was a glorious explosion of costume jewellery and retro frocks. We played for awhile!

We also visited Le Cabinet des Curieuses, which is just so-so fabulous. I think I’ll write an entire post on this boutique of dreams, practically next door to Carrie Bradshop. The lovely X’tatix Doll keeps shop, attending to all your reproduction vintage and vintage lingerie needs. Looooove! Some photos to come another day, but in the meantime, look at this EXTRAVAGANT boudoir robe I swanned around in for awhile. It’s sort of to die for.

[Update: if you’re interested in the fabulous robe, it’s a unique piece by Melle Théo Legrand, who you can totally look up here].

C’est tout pour aujourd’hui. I am so content to have made the acquaintance of Sabra. Meeting hybrid vintage/feminist types always gives me so much joy. And there will be more Sabra shenanigans in 2013! I’m off to Paris in April to see her perform at a festival of burlesque as The Blueberry Pie, and there will be visits in between.

So much love for the blogosphere. If you’re a blogger in France, or anywhere nearby, let’s have tea! It will be magical.

I’m at university, je suis à la fac! Last week there was orientation, tomorrow I start classes. Actually. The campus of Lyon II is ridiculously pretty, and even though I actually have most of my classes in the ugly buildings, I get to glimpse all the grand lecture theatres and elaborate stairwells every now and then.

The classes I’m taking are super-cool. I’ll be doing literature and translation and gender studies, mmm. I’m most excited about my gender/language class, on the gendered grammar of French language. It gives me little francophile feminist flutters. I’ll also be reading some eighteenth century French literature, L’Etranger, Virginia Woolf and all manner of wonderful things. And everything will be in French, bien sûr. Many happy sighs!

Bonjour, some more updates from la capitale gastronomique de la France.

I’m in La Croix Rousse right now, still searching for somewhere to live. I’m consumed with apartment-searching, spending hours on the internet, making brave phone calls to real estate agents, making visits. It’s sort of frustrating not having somewhere to live, but it’s also sort of beautiful up here where I am. This is the view of Lyon as you walk down the grand hill towards the centre of town:

It’s cold en ce moment, but oh, the fashions. Here I am swanning about the hotel lobby where every morning I ask to extend my stay just another night, and can I please have another wifi code? Merci.

FASHION.

I’ve had some lovely hot beverages with Sydney people: welcome reprieve from all the French-speaking. I went to this adorable café with Heather, who’s here to study at the same university. The café was decorated with vintage bric-à-brac, and played 1940s music. Sigh!

I also managed a rendezvous with Alex, a fellow Darcy Society devotee back in Sydney who has just finished a semester here in Lyon. We sought out some French Jane Austen, because one should always seek out Jane Austen.

Yesterday I also walked through my university. It’s so preeeeeetty.

All that being out-and-about is tiring, so more often than not I retire in the early evening to eat French bread and do lazy google searches for apartments. Evidence of French bread:

Things will be even more lovely once I find somewhere to live. I’m having intense nesting urges, and can’t wait to have a place to hang all my frocks. There will also be French cooking. Much French cooking.

I’m off to look at apartments this afternoon (quelle surprise), so à bientôt, and bonne journée. Gros bisous de Lyon.

I’m in France! I managed to squeeze a student visa out of the consulate after all, so here I am in Lyon for six months. I have nowhere to live yet, and I don’t even know how to choose my classes, but things are magical as they ought to be when everything happens in French. I happen to have reliable wifi in my hotel, so I’ll share with you my iPhone snaps of the day.

This morning I bought a pain au chocolat, then went walking for like four hours. Here’s my morning selfie, as I walked down to centre-ville from La Croix Rousse:

I walked halfway up these stairs, then decided against it, because look at this ridiculousness:

When I wasn’t walking, I was eating. France = food. When I arrived last night I went straight to Monoprix and ogled the cheese aisle. Look, fromage!

And finally, for some fashion. It feels so good to be back in Winter clothes. I left Sydney just before the heat wave, and I’m luxuriating in the five-degree air with sweaters and stockings. Here’s a little outfit selfie for the day, direct to you from my shocking pink hotel room:

My little legs are tired from all the exploring today, so I’m just going to lie in bed now, eat some quiche and watch French TV. Gros bisous from Lyon, wish me luck with the apartment search.

The festive season hath ended, and now I’m packing up all my capelets ready to move to France for six months. I’ll be studying in Lyon for a semester, drinking lots of red wine and speaking French in a little high-pitched voice. Visa troubles aside, I’m actually ludicrously excited. I will miss Sydney for all the brunching, and my people. But France!

I’ll miss my frocks too. I’m waging war on minimalism as I pack frivolous thing after frivolous thing, but ugh choices! How can I go six months without my red tartan hooded cape coat? I can’t, obviously. My third cousin Vicky is family legend for her declaration that she could travel with “nothing but two pairs of trousers and seven jackets”. I think I inherited some of her ridiculousness.

In my final days here, I’m making use of my wardrobe while I still can. So voila, my frock of the day. It’s a 50s day dress I bought for a pittance in Amsterdam. It’s so beautiful, and fits me so perfectly I could hardly believe it. Of course I wore a capelet too, because I’m never without capelet.